


Strangled (feat. Al Mualim as Mother Gothel)

by epherians



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Tangled (2010) Fusion, Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, References to Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 11:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15363939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: Altaïr was gifted with long, golden hair at birth that would lose its magical healing properties if cut. As such, he was hidden away by Al Mualim in the tallest tower of the fortress of Masyaf. Altaïr has the favor of his Mentor, but wonders when he will ever leave the fortress, considering he is supposed to be an Assassin, not a shut-in.Then one day, he meets Malik, a runaway thief who found his tower as an unexpected hiding place. Together, they embark on an adventure where Altaïr discovers the outside world and who he is meant to be.An Assassin’s Creed/Tangled adventure, featuring Al Mualim as Mother Gothel.





	Strangled (feat. Al Mualim as Mother Gothel)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [a post](http://bewareofchris.tumblr.com/post/120986503497/i-got-it-malik-is-flynn-and-he-steals-the-crown) from izumikouhei and [Cards_Slash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cards_Slash). By the good grace of canon references, this AU will actually work!
> 
> Half fairytale Disney, half actual Assassin's Creed. There will be canon references and dialogue everywhere. I hope they amuse you as much as they amuse me.

This is the story of how Malik died. But don't worry, it’s actually a fun story! (And to tell you the truth, it’s not even Malik’s.) This is about a boy with golden hair, named Altaïr…

Long ago, a mysterious treasure known as the Apple came into existence. The truth of its origins remained unknown, but whether it came from a splendorous garden or a single drop of sunlight that touched an apple on the earth, the Apple of Eden was known to bestow great power unto the hands of those who commanded it. Its power was not made for human hands, but on one such occasion that it landed in human possession, its presence was undoubtedly the kind that changed the lives of the people all around it.

For instance, it had the power to heal any sickness or injury, provided a special song was sung:

> _“Apple, gleam and glow!_  
>  _Let your power shine!_  
>  _Make the clock reverse,_  
>  _Bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…”_

Or so it was established by legends of old. But a man had witnessed the Apple spring to new life, and he recognized in this newly blessed treasure a secret knowledge that few understood. You see, this apple was thought to contain more than just the power to heal. The man believed it, and sought to prove this theory by reciting a different invocation.

> _“I apply my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly,_  
>  _I perceive that this also is a chasing of the wind,_  
>  _For in much wisdom is much grief,_  
>  _And he that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.”_

Lo and behold, the man called Rashid ad-Din Sinan had discovered a secret he intended to keep. More than the ability to heal, the Apple was capable of conjuring illusions and controlling the minds of people, and Rashid desired this power to reign supreme over the land.

The existence of the Apple went unnoticed until the year King Umar and Queen Maud were expecting their first child. On the eve of the birth, the Queen was dying, unlikely to survive the night. The only chance of saving her was to find the Apple.

An immediate search poured out for the legendary artifact that could heal. It was here that Rashid made the mistake of accessing the Apple this very night, for in his effort to escape, the Apple suddenly fell to the ground in his wake! The glowing object was spotted, and delivered immediately to the palace.

The healing power of the Apple saved Queen Maud's life, and a healthy boy was born. His name was Altaïr, and he was gifted with beautifully golden hair—almost as if the Apple’s power was given to him.

King Umar sent the Apple to be hidden beneath Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem, as such power could not be allowed to disrupt the peace that was already held in the Kingdom. But Rashid was not going to put the matter to rest so easily. 

He made one final bargain on the night he snuck into the sleeping chamber of the young prince. Singing to the infant to make his hair glow, the Mentor cut off a lock with his knife—and the magic was cut off with it, the golden hair turning darkly brown. Such action would weaken the power that was keeping Rashid alive, and he could not allow that! Not when he still had so much to acquire, to achieve!

If he could not have the Apple, then he could settle for the next best source.

They said it was cruelty that led to Prince Altaïr's kidnapping that night, when he was only an infant taken away by a horrid monster. The Kingdom’s guards searched all throughout the land, but they found nothing. It was as if the prince had never truly existed. But the King and Queen did not give up.

Each year, on the night of his birth, the Kingdom’s people sent floating lanterns out in the sky to remember the lost prince, and to remain faithful that he might return to them someday.

And though the prince, now named Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad, remained unaware of his identity, he, too, saw the lights from his tower in Masyaf, and was captivated by their presence year after year.

 

* * *

 

> _Dear Codex,_
> 
> _I’ve given you a name, something unique, because we’re gonna be friends for quite some time. When I requested a blank book from Al Mualim, it was so that I could someone, anyone, of all these things that I need to tell._
> 
> _I don’t have much company nowadays, or much company to begin with. The only people I meet are Al Mualim, who comes to check on me daily, and fellow brothers when I'm exploring the rest of the fortress. Of course, no one knows that that I actually explore the fortress, and no one knows who I actually am. Al Mualim forbids me to go outside, but when you've lived in a tower all your life, you'd want to know better. You'd want to know more._
> 
> _Looks like you'll be keeping me company too. I shall very much treasure it._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad_

 

* * *

 

> _Dear Codex,_
> 
> _Taking care of seventy feet of hair is a notorious job that nobody else has to deal with except me! Al Mualim says my hair is special, the kind that I could be killed over just for the "weight" it would fetch in gold. That it magically heals is also something to consider. Perhaps I wouldn't be killed then—I'd be kidnapped and taken prisoner, forced to serve the whims of whoever could remain invincible forever. So Al Mualim has reason to say that staying in this tower is for my safety._
> 
> _But it doesn't have to always be this way, does it? Aren't the Assassins supposed to wear hoods so that their identities remain concealed? What's to say that I can't do the same?_
> 
> _I only have all the time in the world right now. I'll have to devise a way to make a hood for my uniform, one that can hide seventy feet of hair and make me look like a normal Assassin for once._
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad_

 

* * *

 

> _Dear Codex,_
> 
> _Things have become a lot easier since wearing up my hood. This makes me inconspicuous when sneaking out to attend lessons or procure supplies._
> 
> _Today was the usual routine: chores around the tower, greet Al Mualim, then after seeing him off—my daily excursions around the fortress. Stealth is easy once you get used to it; so many Assassins are in the same clothes as me. I keep my head down and they wouldn't get a chance to see my face. The skills they learn are invaluable, from combat to freerunning to sharing information. I could spend all day—in fact, my whole life—here among this brotherhood, but it is not meant to be. I can only stay outside my tower for so long, then I have to be back to bring Al Mualim inside._
> 
> _How long must I remain in these same walls? When will I be given the chance to go outside and see the world others live in?_
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad_

 

* * *

 

> _Dear Codex,_
> 
> _Tomorrow’s gonna be the night where those lights come out in the sky again. A tradition you see once every year, where lights paint the sky and the darkness of night is shunned by its brilliance. I wonder where they come from, but it can’t be from somewhere near here. They must be somewhere far away from Masyaf, and in endless droves to be seen even from here. Yet their strength never wanes, and year after year, they always return._
> 
> _I’ve seen these lights for as long as I can remember, and in them, I can find peace with my life right now._
> 
> _Do you think it’s true? That maybe, those lights are meant for me? I would love to know where they come from, but Al Mualim forbids me to leave this tower, much less this fortress. How long will this be? Am I supposed to stay within these walls forever? I know there has to be a reason to all of this: why I’m here, where did this power in my hair come from, and why there’s still so much I don’t understand. Even a caged bird dreams of flight and being free. _
> 
> _I have to know why. I want to know why. _
> 
> _Yours,  
>  Altaïr Ibn-La’Ahad_

 

* * *

 

“All right, today’s the day.”

Altaïr took deep breaths and jogged in place to get pumped up. “Who’s ready? I’m ready! Yes I am! …At least I hope I am.”

“ _Altaïr, Altaïr! Come out and let down your hair!_ ” That was the call of the tower’s only other visitor.

“Coming, Mentor!”

The tower had no entrance except for the window, so Altaïr would use his tresses to carry his mentor up via makeshift lift. Usually the first thing the Mentor would ask for was the usual—Altaïr would give him his hair to hold while he sang the healing incantation—but today Altaïr was way too giddy to not notice the rush of magic that gave Al Mualim an energy boost.

“Okay, Mentor, I have something I would really like to ask of you-”

“Altaïr, you must calm down!” The old mentor had just barely a chance to sit down.

“First, I just wanted to let you know—it's my birthday!”

Al Mualim smiled. “Oh Altaïr, I remember your birthday was distinctly a year ago…”

“That's the thing about birthdays,” Altaïr chuckled. “They're kind of an annual thing…”

“Altaïr, what have I said about mumbling where I can't hear you? Speak up!”

“Then I'll be frank with you, Mentor,” Altaïr announced. “For my birthday, I have one request: I want to see the floating lights.”

“Ah, you mean the stars?”

“That's the thing,” Altaïr prefaced as he unveiled his grand astronomy map on the ceiling. “I've been tracking the stars, and they're constant. But these lights, they appear once every year, and I can't help but feel like they're meant for me somehow. I want to see them, not just through a window, but in person. So, please…”

Al Mualim didn't even stop to consider. “Altaïr, you know you must stay in this tower for a reason. And, if you were to ever leave this tower, you would deliberately disobey me.”

(Oh boy, here comes the lecture again.) (Al Mualim always had a flair for the dramatic.)

“The outside world is dangerous! So many vile people who seek nothing but to murder, pillage, and destroy! And to say nothing of the forces of nature! Earthquakes, famines, plagues—they would consume you alive! No, Altaïr, you are my most valued student, and it is safest for you to stay in this tower, where you belong.”

Altaïr, for the most part, was frightened about the fear of the unknown, for he had never been outside. Still, he would bargain again and again that he should get a chance, but Al Mualim looked at him with steely eyes and gave his mandate.

“Don’t _ever ask_ to leave this fortress again.” 

Al Mualim’s word was absolute.

“Yes, Mentor.”

“Remember, Altaïr, that Mentor always knows best.”

And as Al Mualim was lowered from the tower to the outside world where Altaïr could not go, the sheltered Assassin had to wonder if what his mentor said was really true.

 

* * *

 

“Did you guys _see_ that castle? Because I sure did! Imagine what it's like to live there! We’ve seen Jerusalem’s finest and it's only morning—I can't wait for the rest of this day!”

In truth, Malik Al-Sayf would've preferred a life other than thievery, but he was in too deep now and his only way out was to escape the castle with the temple treasure. If successful, this would be the grandest heist in the Kingdom’s history.

Right now, he and his band of fellow thieves—Robert de Sable, Talal, and Majd Addin—were running from the royal guards, which was to be expected. Malik tried to reason that they were transporting the treasure somewhere safer, but that just made the chase faster and harder. Leading the chase was a masked bodyguard in full armor. 

Good thing for horseback, right? Actually that wasn't true because only the guards were on horseback; Malik and his buddies had to book it on foot. 

“Oh no… Oh no no no no no!” When the others stopped to look, Malik just referred to his wanted poster. “They just can't get my face right!”

“So what?!” Robert exclaimed.

“That's easy for you to say!” Malik brought attention to the other posters, which looked far more menacing. “You guys look so good in yours!”

The whinnies of approaching horses interrupted their respite. The quartet was on the run again—until a tall cliff blocked their way. One person couldn't climb it all.

Malik requested, “Give me a boost! Then I'll help you up.”

The others looked at each other before Robert countered, “Give us your satchel first.” Referring to Malik’s bag in which the treasure was kept.

“Oh, come on! You mean after all this time we worked together, you still don't trust me?” Malik pleaded with a smile. Nonetheless, he had to give up his satchel before the others would boost him.

After Malik made it to the cliff, Robert—at the top of the three-person tower—called out, “Al-Sayf! Get us out of here!”

“Sorry, but—my hands are full.” Malik revealed he got his satchel back, then escaped.

He really didn't like those guys!

By that logic, he should be home free since the other horseback guards would be trapped by the cliff as well. Malik thought he was in the clear—until he was pursued again by the masked bodyguard!

“How did you get here!?” Malik freaked. The bodyguard never bothered answering, and as much as Malik wanted to keep running, he did not have infinite stamina.

Luckily, there was a village up ahead. Maybe he could find some way to disguise himself.

Malik did as best as he could: staying in crowds, walking slowly, and even snagging a black robe to put over his usual garb. He even hid in a big haystack, for the sake of eluding his pursuer. Just when he thought it was safe to come out (because he was suffocating under all that hay), Malik was assailed by a woman who desperately needed to get his attention.

“I beg of you! I need food, just a few coins is all I ask! Just a few coins, please!”

Why did they have to shout so loud!? If the bodyguard was still in the area, he’d know where to look now! Malik shoved the beggar out of the way and made a beeline for higher ground. He ran into the biggest settlement he could find—a grand fortress—without realizing he might have gotten in because of his robes. And then he stopped to look around.

—Was he really in Masyaf, in the fortress of the Assassins!?

The place was full of many people, all dressed in the same robes of black or white. To a meager thief like Malik, he was in awe of the place that was thought to be of legend. No one seemed to pay him any mind, as long as he greeted them with the customary, “Safety and peace.”

It was then, as Malik explored the fortress, that he noticed a particularly tall tower hidden away from the rest. It seemed like no one went near that tower—was there even a door? Perhaps he could hide there for the time being…

With a bit of effort, Malik climbed his way into the tower through its only window. He stepped inside and it seemed like the coast was clear—

—until a pair of hands snaked up behind Malik and forcibly choked the living daylights out of him.

 

* * *

 

_What have I done!?_

Altaïr was positively sure he killed the man, from the way his body fell limp to the ground. But…he was breathing. That was still okay, right? If he wasn't dead… then he hadn't compromised the Brotherhood! Altaïr just had to wait for when the man would wake up again.

He also had to hide that man who was not supposed to be up here in the tower! Fortunately, that was what the empty closet was for. Altaïr kept a steady watch on the furniture, in case his target should regain consciousness and attack.

“Okay! Calm down, it’s only a person in your closet. You’ve got…a person in your closet.” And then Altaïr slowly realized what he had done. “I’ve…got a person…in my closet! I’ve got a person in my closet!” He laughed to himself. “Too weak to handle myself, Mentor? I think not this time!”

It was then that Altaïr noticed the man’s satchel was left open, a gave off a glint of light. With no one else around, he slowly went over to inspect it.

What was it, other than being a golden, sphere-like object? It felt warm in Altaïr’s hand, and the fact it glowed so prominently could not be overlooked. As he concentrated, perhaps he thought the object was trying to tell him something…

“ _Altaïr! Come out and let down your hair!_ ”

The call interrupted Altaïr and he scrambled to put the satchel with the treasure away.

“I'm here, Mentor!”

“I have a surprise for you!” Al Mualim called.

“I have a surprise for you, too!”

“I think mine is much better!”

(“I doubt it,” Altaïr snarked to himself.)

Upon arriving in the tower, Al Mualim announced, “I'm making hazelnut soup! Your favorite for dinner!”

Altaïr was too focused on the handle to the closet. “Mentor, I have something I want to show you-”

“I hope you're still not going to ask about the stars, Altaïr,” Al Mualim warned.

“No, it's not, it's something else-”

“-because you already know what I will say if you should ask again.”

“Mentor, please, just give me a chance!”

“What have I said already about the lights, Altaïr?”

“No, if you would just _try_ and listen to me-”

"That’s enough with the lights, Altaïr!” Al Mualim suddenly burst with anger. “You are NEVER leaving Masyaf! EVER!"

Altaïr was shut up abruptly, that he refused to speak. The Mentor sat down in exhaustion.

“Great, now I’m the bad guy.”

Altaïr thought again about the closet, but decided against it.

“I'm sorry, Mentor. …I have something else I want for my birthday instead.”

“What is it?”

“New flags? That I can hang up in my room?”

Al Mualim sighed. “You know I have to make a long trip to the merchants. About three days.”

“I know,” Altaïr said. “I just thought it would be better…than asking to go see the stars again.”

His mentor relented. “All right.”

“I know I'll be safe as long as I stay in here,” Altaïr recited to keep his mentor’s worries at bay.

It wasn't long before Al Mualim left for his three days’ trip. As soon as he was out of sight on the ground, Altaïr had a person in his closet to get to.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and feedback would be appreciated as I attempt to update this!


End file.
